


volleyball teams and airports don't mix

by waterbendingpercy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Airports, Gen, lowkey a crackfic, really just an excuse to write seijou interactions, team interactions, they meet kuroo just b/c, yelling and swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 20:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11790852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbendingpercy/pseuds/waterbendingpercy
Summary: Yahaba turned to the baffled family standing in line behind him. “I don’t know these people.”(aka: Seijou goes to the airport. Iwaizumi can't take themanywhere.)





	volleyball teams and airports don't mix

**Author's Note:**

> i found this on my phone from a year or two ago and i patched it up. hope u enjoy my attempt at comedy

Matsukawa was the first one off the bus. He promptly began retching into the nearest garbage can. 

“Gross, Issei. I hope you’re better with airplanes,” Hanamaki snorted, slapping him on the back, “or else I’ll have to switch seats with someone.”

“Rude,” Matsukawa coughed out weakly. 

“Switch with me, then,” Iwaizumi said as he dragged his suitcase over. “I can hardly tolerate an hour long bus ride with _him_ , let alone five hours on a plane.”

“Iwa-chan!” came Oikawa’s petulant whine as he emerged from the vehicle. “So mean! You’re the one who threw my phone across the bus.”

“You know for a fact that I can’t stand those crappy pop songs.”

Oikawa sniffed indignantly. “We’re not even going to be sitting next to each other, anyway—I’m sitting with Yahaba-kun.”

“Great, that gets them both out of the way,” Kyoutani muttered.

Yahaba glowered at him. “Then you’re in luck, because you’re sitting in the same row as us,” he retorted. Kyoutani looked as if he’d rather join Matsukawa at the trash can. 

“Is everyone here?” Mizoguchi called, checking off names on his clipboard. “Where’s Kunimi?”

“He said he was coming separately,” Kindaichi answered. “His mom is dropping him off.”

“Kunimi’s mom is right here,” Oikawa pointed at Iwaizumi, and no more than two seconds later received a smack to the back of his head. “Ow! Sorry, sorry!” He ducked to avoid another hit. 

“Keep that up and I'll be kicking your ass to China, you shitfuck.”

“Ooh, kinky,” Matsukawa smirked, still hunched over the trash can. He froze when the vice captain turned to glare at him.

“Keep vomiting your guts out, _Mattsun_ , or you’re next.”

“Will do.”

The volleyball team shuffled inside the airport, leaving Hanamaki outside to watch Matsukawa. Mizoguchi herded them into line, fussing about their passports and luggage.

“Yahaba, what’s in your bag?”

“Hmm? Oh, just my clothes and toiletries and stuff, Mizoguchi-san.”

The coach eyed the bulging suitcase suspiciously. The zippers could barely keep the straining seams closed. “Well, whatever the hell you have in there, I’m pretty sure it’s way over the weight limit. You have to take something out.”

Yahaba paled. “No.”

A few minutes later, Watari was kneeling next to Yahaba on the airport floor. The suitcase lay zipped open like a gutted animal in front of them as the pair sifted through his belongings. 

“I don’t think you need this many shoes, Yahaba,” he said dubiously. 

“Well, I need my volleyball trainers, Watari.”

Watari scratched his head. “Sure, but I don’t think you need these snow boots. Or these flip flops, or a _rice cooker_ —is this even allowed—”

“Oh my god, Yahaba, are those crocs?” Hanamaki appeared next to them and snatched the incriminating rubber shoes out of the suitcase. “Oh. My. God. Crocs. Issei, can you believe this?”

Matsukawa came up from behind. “What a sickly green color. It reminds me of a few minutes ago, when—”

“All right! I get it!” Yahaba flung shoes out of his suitcase. Kyoutani stood nearby, snickering as he filmed the scene.

“Is that snapchat, Kyouken-chan?” Oikawa asked, leaning over his shoulder. "You should add me!”

Kyoutani yelped, nearly dropping his phone. “Geez, Oikawa! When will you stop being so damn creepy?!”

Oikawa pouted, on the verge of replying, when Iwaizumi approached them. “While you were all standing around, Mizoguchi and I got everyone's boarding passes. You’re welcome.” He shoved the slips of paper at his dumbfounded teammates and proceeded toward the others. 

Yahaba finished closing his suitcase, which was now considerably lighter and less bulky. A plastic bag of belongings deemed unnecessary by Watari (which included an electric mosquito racket and the rice cooker, along with several pairs of shoes) rested at his feet. Kyoutani wrinkled his nose.

“Why do you need so much stuff? We’re only going for a week.”

Yahaba crossed his arms stubbornly. “Yeah, but unlike some people, I prefer to wear clean underwear and brush my teeth every day.”

Kyoutani bristled at the retort. “Are you saying I don’t?”

“Now, kids, don’t start fighting,” Oikawa scolded gently, slinging an arm around both of them. “Or else I’ll send Iwa-chan after you.”

“I'm going to send your ass into space if you don’t all get in line for security,” Iwaizumi grumbled as he walked by. “We only have forty minutes until boarding time. Let’s go.”

Everyone ignored Oikawa’s complaint about being punished for the whole team and scrambles past each other for a place in the growing line. Bags are slung around shoulders and elbows jostle against shoulders, but they eventually settle into something of a line. Mizoguchi walked up and down, checking the rest of the names off his clipboard.

Kindaichi’s phone buzzed in his pants pocket. He pulled it out to read the text, attempting to ignore Hanamaki and Matsukawa very obviously peering at his screen.

“Kunimi says he’s waiting for us outside the security checkpoint,” Kindaichi announced.

Mizoguchi sighed. “That's one less brat I have to worry about.”

“Why is Kunimi’s contact photo a picture of him sleeping?” Hanamaki suddenly asked. Kindaichi blushed, whirling around to face him.

“Um—”

“Hiro, look, he even put the little sleepy emoji next to it. That’s so cute,” Matsukawa cooed, pointing at the screen.

“At least he didn’t put three hundred heart emojis after his name,” Watari remarked from behind, “like I know you two have for each other.”

The third year duo’s attention turned to the libero. “Oh, didn’t you know, Watacchi?” Matsukawa questioned. “Makki and I are dating.”

“We’re deeply in love.”

“Have been for years.”

“Actually, we’re engaged,” Hanamaki added, reaching up to hook his arms around Matsukawa’s neck.

The other boy gasped, feigning shock, and held a hand to his chest melodramatically. “But babe, you haven’t even proposed to me yet.”

“That’s because I decided to do it right now, in the most romantic way possible—on a trip with our high school volleyball club,” declared Hanamaki, and he sank to the floor on one knee in the middle of the airport. The people standing in line around them shifted away uncomfortably. “Matsukawa Issei, my beloved one and only meme, the Oikawa to my Iwa-chan, will you—”

Yahaba turned to the baffled family standing in line behind him. “I don’t know these people.”

“How did they manage to keep completely straight faces the entire time?” Watari murmured in disbelief.

Yahaba wrinkled his nose. “There’s nothing straight about that, Watari.”

At the front of the line, Iwaizumi and Kyoutani were preparing their bags to go through the X-ray machines. “Remember to take off your shoes,” Iwaizumi reminded him. “And take out your laptop.”

Kyoutani raised an eyebrow curiously. “What about volleyballs?”

Iwaizumi looked back at him incredulously. “Why would you bring a volleyball?”

He shrugged. “We’re going to a volleyball tournament, right?”

“That’s exactly why you  _shouldn’t_ have to bring one,” Iwaizumi deadpanned. 

One of the staff members approached them. “I think that’s fine, as long as it’s not used as a weapon or anything,” she joked. “It’ll go through the X-Rays, anyway.”

“With Iwa-chan, volleyballs are most definitely a weapon,” Oikawa added, pulling up a tray with his belongings.

“Would you like me to demonstrate that?” Iwaizumi threatened, crossing his arms.

“Hey, it’s my volleyball,” Kyoutani insisted.

“Can you guys hurry up?” Matsukawa called. “We’ve been waiting back here forever.”

They make it through security without anymore issues, except for a very anxious Kindaichi who had to be patted down and a grumbly Watari who had to throw out some of his toiletries (“So Yahaba can take his hair dryer, but I can’t bring my deodorant?”). Kunimi was waiting for them at the coffee shop, idly scrolling through his phone, and only glanced up at Kindaichi’s greeting.

“I’ve been waiting here for almost half an hour,” he said. “What took so long?”

“I think you mean ‘who’,” Kyoutani grumbled, and turned to glare at Yahaba, who scowled back at him.

“Yeah, and Oikawa got held up at school by his fanclub this morning,” Iwaizumi complained. Kyoutani let out a snort-laugh.

“You guys are just jealous.” Oikawa came up from behind them and draped an arm over Yahaba’s shoulders, who looked equal parts ticked off and mortified. “It’s not my fault I’m so nice.” Iwaizumi threw his passport at them. Oikawa screeched. 

Kunimi frowned as Kyoutani and Yahaba pulled faces at each other. “I’m sorry for asking.”

Mizoguchi rubbed his temples. “Me too, kid.”

The coach then shooed them ahead while he got into the long queue at the coffee shop for some much needed caffeine. After checking the screens to confirm their gate number, the team (minus Mizoguchi) continued on through the airport. 

“Hey, doesn’t that guy look familiar?” Matsukawa asked, pointing at someone in the gift shop they were passing. 

Hanamaki frowned, peering around Matsukawa’s shoulder. “I dunno. I’m pretty sure I’d remember seeing that masterpiece of a bedhead somewhere. Or someone that hot.”

“Who’s hot?” Oikawa asked as he and Iwaizumi stopped beside them.

There was a yelp as Kunimi and Kindaichi suddenly walked into the third years from behind. “Sorry Iwaizumi-san!” Kindaichi squeaked, while Kunimi looked slightly miffed. “I didn’t see you there!”

“No one blames you, kid,” Hanamaki reassured. “Iwa-chan’s so tiny, he’s practically—” His sentence was cut off in a high-pitched shriek as the vice-captain stomped on his foot. 

“Cut it out, bedhead guy saw us staring!” Matsukawa hissed, frantically grabbing Kyoutani and slapping a hand over his mouth. The second-year flailed in protest, snapping out muffled insults. “Abort mission, abort mission, abort—”

Matsukawa’s panicking was interrupted. “Hey,” came a low voice. The entire team visibly stiffened. “Are you the Aobajousai volleyball club? From Miyagi?”

Oikawa swiveled around, narrowing his eyes. “Yeah, we are. What about it?”

The stranger raised his eyebrows. His amused gaze flicked from Kyoutani gnawing on Matsukawa’s arm to Oikawa’s defensive pout. “Nothing. I’ve just heard a lot about you guys.” His smile widened; he bore an uncanny resemblance to the Cheshire cat. “I remember Sawamura being especially irritated by you, Oikawa-san.”

Iwaizumi blinked in surprise. “Oh. You must be Kuroo Tetsurou.” He looked back at Oikawa, who was staring at him incredulously. “What? I talk to Sawamura a lot.”

“That’s me.” Kuroo laughed in delight. “Nekoma High volleyball captain, at your service.”

“Nekoma, huh?” Hanamaki piped up. “Sounds like…” He looked Kuroo up and down, from his mop of black hair to his shining, slitted eyes. “Uh…”

“What, cat got your tongue?” Kuroo said, smirking when Hanamaki’s expression lit up.

“Oh my god.” Hanamaki looked at Oikawa. “Can we keep him?”

“No,” Iwaizumi replied immediately. “No offense,” he said to Kuroo.

Kuroo shrugged. “None taken. It’s pretty interesting getting to meet you guys in person…in, uh, comparison to Karasuno.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yahaba said hotly.

“Well… you’re a lot more alike than you’d think.”

Everyone went quiet for a moment. They looked at Oikawa, then at each other, then back to Kuroo. For once, their team captain was speechless.

“Excuse me?” came a small voice. 

They all turned in confusion to see an elderly lady standing behind them, smiling pleasantly up at Hanamaki. “I just wanted to congratulate you two on your engagement.” She beamed at him and Matsukawa. “It’s not very often I see such a sincere display from young people and I’m glad some of you still see value in true romance.”

With a last pat on Hanamaki’s arm, she turned and left, still smiling. Kuroo stared after her, open-mouthed, then looked back at Matsukawa and Hanamaki. 

Matsukawa shifted uncomfortably. Yahaba and Kyoutani exchanged glances as they tried not to laugh.

“Anyway,” Iwaizumi coughed, “we’d love to chat, Kuroo-san, but we have a flight to catch soon, so—”

“Do you mean the one they just made a last minute call for?” Kunimi interrupted, pointing up at the ceiling. The closing notes of an announcement faded into the background of chatter and suitcases rolling over tile.

“Well, shit,” Kyoutani mumbled.

“Oi, what are you waiting for?! Get moving!” Iwaizumi barked, ushering the team down the corridor. Kindaichi grabbed Kunimi by the arm and dragged him along. The rest of the club broke into a sprint through the airport, a blur of mint and white jackets, while calling out goodbyes to Kuroo. Hanamaki turned around and began to jog backwards.

“You’re cute! Call me!” he shouted, winking and making finger guns at Kuroo. Matsukawa punched him in the shoulder, dragging him away by the back of his jacket.

“Makki!!” Oikawa and Iwaizumi scolded, followed by Oikawa’s shout of “No fraternizing with the enemy!”

They made it to the gate with seconds to spare, panting and red-faced. Kindaichi raced straight past Mizoguchi in an attempt to get on the jetway.

“Kindaichi!! Your boarding pass!” Iwaizumi yelled.

“Oh! Sorry!” Kindaichi ran back. Mizoguchi rubbed his temples again.

They clustered around the flight attendants hurriedly scanning their boarding passes and thundered down the jetway. “I call shotgun!” Hanamaki yelled.

Yahaba spluttered in annoyance. “That’s not a thing!”

Five minutes and several disgruntled passengers later, the whole team was seated in the aircraft. Mizoguchi immediately pulled on an eyemask and a pair of headphones. A row behind, Kindaichi peered at the sleeping coach from between the seats.

“Do you think he purposefully booked his seat away from everyone else?” he muttered.

Kunimi snorted, tapping away on his DS. “Do you blame him?” He shot an irritated glare at Matsukawa sitting next to him, who was leaning over and obviously staring at Kunimi’s screen.

“Hey, Kunimi-kun,” Matsukawa whispered. “Do you have any heart emojis next to Kindaichi’s contact in your phone?”

“What,” said Kunimi. Kindaichi slumped over in his seat and groaned, head in his hands.

In the next row over, Yahaba was fuming. “Stop that.”

Kyoutani raised an eyebrow. “Stop what?”

“Shaking your goddamn leg.”

“What, like this?” Kyoutani nudged Yahaba’s knee.

“Stop it!” Yahaba hissed, grabbing onto Kyoutani’s leg.

Kyoutani growled. “Fuckin’ make me, creampuff.”

Yahaba dug his fingers into Kyoutani’s sweatpants. His eye twitched. “Do you want to die?”

“Do _you_ wanna die?”

In the window seat beside them, Watari pretended to be fascinated with his safety information card.

Iwaizumi appeared from the row behind, looming over the second-years. “You’re both going to die,” he growled. “One of you switch seats with Hanamaki. _Now._ ”

“Oh, thank god,” Kyoutani and Yahaba sighed in unison. Yahaba stuck his tongue out at Kyoutani as he got up to change seats.

Iwaizumi slumped back in seat with a huff. Oikawa patted him on the shoulder. “You’re doing well, captain,” he purred.

“ _Vice_ -captain,” Iwaizumi reminded him. “This is supposed to be your job.”

“Nah, they only listen to you.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but juding by their behavior, _none of them_ fucking listen to me.”

Oikawa wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, they do make that a habit, don’t they?” He nudged Iwaizumi in the shoulder. “Settle down. I want to sleep.”

“What— _oi,_ you—!” Iwaizumi groaned as Oikawa snuggled against his arm. “We haven’t even taken off yet.”

“I know.” Oikawa leaned against his shoulder. “’m just getting comfortable.”

Next to them, the seats jerked. Kyoutani and Yahaba had started bickering again, this time over Yahaba kicking his seat. Iwaizumi forced himself to close his eyes.

It was going to be a long flight.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for sticking w me folks
> 
> (i was going to add a bonus thing where kenma was with kuroo but i got tired)


End file.
